Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank
Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount?
Thee lastly, nuptial bower! by me adorn'd
With what to sight or smell was sweet! from thee
How shall I part, and whither wander down
Into a lower world, to this obscure
And wild? how shall we breathe in other air
Less pure, accustom'd to immortal fruits?
To these all readers turn, and they can look
Pleased on a paper, who abhor a book; Those who ne'er deign'd their Bible to peruse, Would think it hard to be denied their news! Sinners and saints, the wisest with the weak, Here mingle tastes, and one amusement seek; This, like the public inn, provides a treat, Where each promiscuous guest sits down to eat; And such this mental food, as we may call, Something to all men, and to some men all.
Oh! in what rare productions shall we trace Such various subjects in so small a space! As the first ship upon the waters bore Incongruous kinds who never met before; Or as some curious virtuoso joins
In one small room, moths, minerals, and coins,
Birds, beasts, and fishes; nor refuses place
To serpents, toads, and all the reptile-race; -
So here, compress'd within a single sheet,
Great things and small, the mean and mighty meet.
'Tis this which makes all Europe's business known,
Yet here a private man may place his own;
And where he reads of Lords and Commons, he
May tell their honours that he sells rappee.
Lo! when it comes before the cheerful fire,
Damps from the press in smoky curls aspire;
Then eager every eye surveys the part
That brings its favourite subject to the heart.
Grave politicians look for facts alone,
And gravely add conjectures of their own:
The sprightly nymph, who never broke her rest
For tottering crowns, or mighty lands opprest,
Finds broils and battles, but neglects them all
For songs and suits, a birthday or a ball:
The keen warm man o'erlooks each idle tale
For "money wanted," and "estates on sale: "
While some with equal minds to all attend,
Pleased with each part, and grieved to find an end
126. HOME.
[From THE TRAVELLER.]
BUT where to find that happiest spot below,
Who can direct, when all pretend to know?
The shudd'ring tenant of the frigid zone
Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own,-
Extols the treasures of his stormy seas,
And his long nights of revelry and ease:
The naked negro, panting at the line,
Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine,
Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave,
And thanks his gods for all the good they gave.
Such is the Patriot's boast where'er we roam;
His first, best country, ever is at home.
And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare,
And estimate the blessings which they share,
Though patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find
An equal portion dealt to all mankind;
As different good, by Art or Nature given
To different nations, makes their blessings even.
127. GINEVRA.
[From ITALY.]
HE was an only child; from infancy
The joy, the pride of an indulgent sire;
And in her fifteenth year became a bride,
Marrying an only son, Francesco Doria,
Her playmate from her birth, and her first love.
She was all gentleness, all gaiety,
Her pranks the favourite theme of every tongue.
But now the day was come, the day, the hour;
Now, frowning, smiling, for the hundredth time,
The nurse, that ancient lady, preach'd decorum;
And, in the lustre of her youth, she gave
Her hand, with her heart in it, to Francesco.
Great was the joy; but at the bridal feast, When all sat down, the bride was wanting there. Nor was she to be found! Her father cried, ""Tis but to make a trial And fill'd his glass to all; but his hand shook, And soon from guest to guest the panic spread. 'Twas but that instant she had left Francesco, Laughing and looking back and flying still, Her ivory tooth imprinted on his finger. But now, alas! she was not to be found: Nor from that hour could anything be guess'd, But that she was not!-Weary of his life, Francesco flew to Venice, and forthwith Flung it away in battle with the Turk.
Her father lived; and long might'st thou have seen
An old man wandering as in quest of something,
Something he could not find-he knew not what.
When he was gone, the house remain'd awhile
Silent and tenantless-then went to strangers.
Full fifty years were past, and all forgot,
When on an idle day, a day of search
Mid the old lumber in the gallery,
That mouldering chest was noticed; and 'twas said
By one as young, as thoughtless as Ginevra,
"Why not remove it from its lurking-place!
'Twas done as soon as said! but on the way
It burst, it fell; and lo, a skeleton,
With here and there a pearl, an emerald-stone,
A golden-clasp, clasping a shred of gold.
All else had perish'd-save a nuptial ring,
And a small seal, her mother's legacy,
Engraven with a name, the name of both,
"Ginevra.”—There then had she found a grave! Within that chest had she conceal'd herself, Fluttering with joy, the happiest of the happy; When a spring-lock, that lay in ambush there, Fasten'd her down for ever!
128. INSTABILITY OF AFFECTION.
ALAS!-how light a cause may move
Dissension between hearts that love!
Hearts that the world in vain had tried,
And sorrow but more closely tied;
That stood the storm, when waves were rough,
Yet in a sunny hour fall off,—
Like ships that have gone down at sea,
When heav'n was all tranquillity!
A something light as air-a look,
A word unkind or wrongly taken—
Oh! love that tempests never shook,
A breath, a touch like this hath shaken.
And ruder words will soon rush in
To spread the breach that words begin;
Till fast declining, one by one,
The sweetnesses of love are gone;
And hearts so lately mingled, seem
Like broken clouds- -or like the stream,
That smiling left the mountain's brow,
As though its waters ne'er could sever,
Yet, ere it reach the plain below,
Breaks into floods that part for ever.
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